naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Cruel Intentions Asshole Day)
So, this person I've never heard of even though her 'About' section makes her sound really important has decided that NaNoWriMo is a waste of time, and has decided to write about it in a particularly condescending and unpleasant way.

I've done NaNo three times in the past. It's fun, or it's meant to be. It's not meant to be a method by which Great and Significant Works of Art are brought into the world. From what I recall of the original NaNo handbook, there was a lot of emphasis on first-time novelists and people who would never otherwise have written a book giving it a try, and experiencing the joy of having created something that most people never create. The novel-in-a-month thing gives it a skydiving-like rush. It's crazy, which is part of its appeal.

A lot of crap gets written during NaNo. No disputing that. Hell, my NaNo novels will probably never see the light of day, and it's probably for the best that way. And I agree with her that mentioning that the novel that you have just submitted to an agent or publisher was your NaNo novel is probably not the best way to inspire confidence.

But she seems to have somehow come to the fucked-up and incorrect conclusion that the novel-writing of NaNo comes at the expense of novel reading. I believe her when she talks about how an acquaintance of hers has met people who want to write but do not read. I've met those people myself. I agree with her when she says that we should celebrate readers, though I am not sure readers are the dying breed she makes them out to be.

But overwhelmingly, the NaNo writers I know are readers. Overwhelmingly. There is no evidence, none, that NaNo is turning readers away from reading and making them into bad writers. She talks about taking up reading challenges in place of NaNo. I've done the 50 Book Challenge. I think it's fantastic.

Can she explain why reading and writing cannot coexist? Can she reasonably assert that they don't already?

As long as we're relying on anecdata for our authority, I've met a lot of professional writers who admit that they don't read. They focus on their writing. Yet here she is, scowling because when bad, unpublished writers do this, it's a waste of time they could be spending doing something she considers more valuable.

When this woman complains about NaNo, what she is really complaining about is bad writers; both amateur writers who write bad fiction and amateur writers who have bad manners. As an Important Publishing Person, she doesn't want to be bothered with these idiots. According to her, all the support should go to readers, whose job is to support "real" writers. I see her point, but picking on NaNo is petty and pointless. She cites the statistic that 21,683 people officially finished NaNo last year. In the grand scheme of things, stacked against the slushpile of shit that is already out there, being shipped to publishers unsolicited and by the ton, do 21,683 manuscripts really matter all that much? And the failed NaNo-ers, who according to her do not read? Are they really some terrible blight upon the publishing world, driving sales down?

Or could it be one or both of these facts:

1) Most people just don't value reading, and this is something that begins long before anyone ever considers whether they want to write or not.

2) People write and submit shitty fiction -- so much of it, in fact, that the amount produced by NaNo writers is hardly a drop in the bucket, and they will continue to do so even when NaNo dies.

Yes, I do occasionally find the NaNo push, the hype, to be tiresome. But people talked to me about their ideas and tried to get me to read their work before NaNo became a Thing. All NaNo seems to have done on that front is concentrate it in November and the months immediately after, and make it slightly more likely that the writer will admit that what they wrote was, in fact, crap, both of which are GOOD side-effects. More of my friends have written books because of it. I haven't read even the tenth part of these, and don't want to, but they are happy, and that makes me happy. I was not litter-trained to piss in other folks' Cheerios.

This woman misses the point of NaNo completely. She herself says she doesn't write novels. How the crap is she qualified to judge it, then? Does she understand what NaNo is really about? What it offers? Why it has become so popular? Does she know any participants? Has she spoken to even one participant in-depth about what they got out of it?

My take on it has always been that writing a book, telling a story, expressing yourself, is a good thing, whether the manner in which you do it has artistic value or not. And I was also taught that the creative impulse is not something reserved for the rarefied elite, something that should only be indulged by the beautiful people of the creative world. Scoffing at the fact that incompetent people feel the urge to write is like lamenting the fact that ugly people have sex. As long as nobody is making you look, you really have no right to be upset by the idea that this is going on. It's not about you.

The feeling of creating something is powerful. Everyone should get a chance to feel that, if they want it.

I'm not saying that all creative output is of equal worth. It's not. I am just saying that everyone should get a chance to feel that, if they want to, and that they shouldn't be told they should be ashamed because they aren't good at it. We dance and fuck and sing in the car because those things feel good, not because those are acts of mighty consequence. For most of us, they aren't. We seek joy. If this woman thinks that doing something that makes you feel extraordinary and happy and satisfied is a waste of time unless it meets her standards of value, well, that doesn't reflect very well on her, does it?

And if she wants to point the finger at "self-aggrandizing," she's looking in the wrong place. Very little is as self-aggrandizing as the professional publishing world, with its snotty insistence that there is a right and wrong way to write, a right and wrong reason to write, a right and wrong way to be published, with its constant sneering at genre work, with the genuinely fucked-up manner in which things like reprints and sequels and royalties and so forth are negotiated.

And for all that she lauds readers, who by definition require someone else to produce what they read, she doesn't seem to have much respect for writers in general:

So I'm not worried about all the books that won't get written if a hundred thousand people with a nagging but unfulfilled ambition to Be a Writer lack the necessary motivation to get the job done. I see no reason to cheer them on. Writers are, in fact, hellishly persistent; they will go on writing despite overwhelming evidence of public indifference and (in many cases) of their own lack of ability or anything especially interesting to say. Writers have a reputation for being tormented by their lot, probably because they're always moaning so loudly about how hard it is, but it's the readers who are fragile, a truly endangered species. They don't make a big stink about how underappreciated they are; like Tinkerbell or any other disbelieved-in fairy, they just fade away.


I don't even know where to begin describing what is wrong with this. It drips with condescension. The whole essay does, in fact. It's like she has no generosity left in her at all for people doing something that is perhaps annoying but, ultimately, doesn't actually affect her life at all.

It's just stupid.

Lady, if you don't like NaNo, fine, but don't be an asshole about it and blame shit on NaNo and NaNo-ers that are more properly the fault of our jacked-up culture. NaNo is a crappy bogeyman, and it's really kind of pathetic that you'd need one in the first place.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Cruel Intentions Asshole Day)
So, this person I've never heard of even though her 'About' section makes her sound really important has decided that NaNoWriMo is a waste of time, and has decided to write about it in a particularly condescending and unpleasant way.

I've done NaNo three times in the past. It's fun, or it's meant to be. It's not meant to be a method by which Great and Significant Works of Art are brought into the world. From what I recall of the original NaNo handbook, there was a lot of emphasis on first-time novelists and people who would never otherwise have written a book giving it a try, and experiencing the joy of having created something that most people never create. The novel-in-a-month thing gives it a skydiving-like rush. It's crazy, which is part of its appeal.

A lot of crap gets written during NaNo. No disputing that. Hell, my NaNo novels will probably never see the light of day, and it's probably for the best that way. And I agree with her that mentioning that the novel that you have just submitted to an agent or publisher was your NaNo novel is probably not the best way to inspire confidence.

But she seems to have somehow come to the fucked-up and incorrect conclusion that the novel-writing of NaNo comes at the expense of novel reading. I believe her when she talks about how an acquaintance of hers has met people who want to write but do not read. I've met those people myself. I agree with her when she says that we should celebrate readers, though I am not sure readers are the dying breed she makes them out to be.

But overwhelmingly, the NaNo writers I know are readers. Overwhelmingly. There is no evidence, none, that NaNo is turning readers away from reading and making them into bad writers. She talks about taking up reading challenges in place of NaNo. I've done the 50 Book Challenge. I think it's fantastic.

Can she explain why reading and writing cannot coexist? Can she reasonably assert that they don't already?

As long as we're relying on anecdata for our authority, I've met a lot of professional writers who admit that they don't read. They focus on their writing. Yet here she is, scowling because when bad, unpublished writers do this, it's a waste of time they could be spending doing something she considers more valuable.

When this woman complains about NaNo, what she is really complaining about is bad writers; both amateur writers who write bad fiction and amateur writers who have bad manners. As an Important Publishing Person, she doesn't want to be bothered with these idiots. According to her, all the support should go to readers, whose job is to support "real" writers. I see her point, but picking on NaNo is petty and pointless. She cites the statistic that 21,683 people officially finished NaNo last year. In the grand scheme of things, stacked against the slushpile of shit that is already out there, being shipped to publishers unsolicited and by the ton, do 21,683 manuscripts really matter all that much? And the failed NaNo-ers, who according to her do not read? Are they really some terrible blight upon the publishing world, driving sales down?

Or could it be one or both of these facts:

1) Most people just don't value reading, and this is something that begins long before anyone ever considers whether they want to write or not.

2) People write and submit shitty fiction -- so much of it, in fact, that the amount produced by NaNo writers is hardly a drop in the bucket, and they will continue to do so even when NaNo dies.

Yes, I do occasionally find the NaNo push, the hype, to be tiresome. But people talked to me about their ideas and tried to get me to read their work before NaNo became a Thing. All NaNo seems to have done on that front is concentrate it in November and the months immediately after, and make it slightly more likely that the writer will admit that what they wrote was, in fact, crap, both of which are GOOD side-effects. More of my friends have written books because of it. I haven't read even the tenth part of these, and don't want to, but they are happy, and that makes me happy. I was not litter-trained to piss in other folks' Cheerios.

This woman misses the point of NaNo completely. She herself says she doesn't write novels. How the crap is she qualified to judge it, then? Does she understand what NaNo is really about? What it offers? Why it has become so popular? Does she know any participants? Has she spoken to even one participant in-depth about what they got out of it?

My take on it has always been that writing a book, telling a story, expressing yourself, is a good thing, whether the manner in which you do it has artistic value or not. And I was also taught that the creative impulse is not something reserved for the rarefied elite, something that should only be indulged by the beautiful people of the creative world. Scoffing at the fact that incompetent people feel the urge to write is like lamenting the fact that ugly people have sex. As long as nobody is making you look, you really have no right to be upset by the idea that this is going on. It's not about you.

The feeling of creating something is powerful. Everyone should get a chance to feel that, if they want it.

I'm not saying that all creative output is of equal worth. It's not. I am just saying that everyone should get a chance to feel that, if they want to, and that they shouldn't be told they should be ashamed because they aren't good at it. We dance and fuck and sing in the car because those things feel good, not because those are acts of mighty consequence. For most of us, they aren't. We seek joy. If this woman thinks that doing something that makes you feel extraordinary and happy and satisfied is a waste of time unless it meets her standards of value, well, that doesn't reflect very well on her, does it?

And if she wants to point the finger at "self-aggrandizing," she's looking in the wrong place. Very little is as self-aggrandizing as the professional publishing world, with its snotty insistence that there is a right and wrong way to write, a right and wrong reason to write, a right and wrong way to be published, with its constant sneering at genre work, with the genuinely fucked-up manner in which things like reprints and sequels and royalties and so forth are negotiated.

And for all that she lauds readers, who by definition require someone else to produce what they read, she doesn't seem to have much respect for writers in general:

So I'm not worried about all the books that won't get written if a hundred thousand people with a nagging but unfulfilled ambition to Be a Writer lack the necessary motivation to get the job done. I see no reason to cheer them on. Writers are, in fact, hellishly persistent; they will go on writing despite overwhelming evidence of public indifference and (in many cases) of their own lack of ability or anything especially interesting to say. Writers have a reputation for being tormented by their lot, probably because they're always moaning so loudly about how hard it is, but it's the readers who are fragile, a truly endangered species. They don't make a big stink about how underappreciated they are; like Tinkerbell or any other disbelieved-in fairy, they just fade away.


I don't even know where to begin describing what is wrong with this. It drips with condescension. The whole essay does, in fact. It's like she has no generosity left in her at all for people doing something that is perhaps annoying but, ultimately, doesn't actually affect her life at all.

It's just stupid.

Lady, if you don't like NaNo, fine, but don't be an asshole about it and blame shit on NaNo and NaNo-ers that are more properly the fault of our jacked-up culture. NaNo is a crappy bogeyman, and it's really kind of pathetic that you'd need one in the first place.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Yes, it's time once again for NaNoWriMo, in which thousands of utterly insane individuals attempt to write at least 50,000 words of a novel in 30 days. It's difficult, but quite possible. I've done it twice.

I'm not so sure of myself this time. I am not certain whether I can even reach 50,000 words on this thing in a month, let alone finish it; projected length is about 85,000. My heart is in it, but I have a lot of other demands on my time at the moment, and two unfinished projects I really need to finish this weekend. I fear I am starting out woefully behind the curve.

At any rate, I'm registered over at the official forums. I don't plan on doing much over there except updating my word count every now and then, but I thought I'd drop the link. There will be excerpts there, eventually. (Don't worry, I'll let you know when they go up, and when they get changed out.)

Anyway, the book.

Damon finally gets his story told. Yes, that Damon. I know it's geeky as hell to recycle a character concept from an RPG, but I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't think it was a genuinely compelling story. And it really, really is.

So, I started work today on Walk In the Shadows. (Thank you for the title, honey.)

1,351 words.

Personal update later. For now, here. Have a theme song.

Our secret's safe for one more night,
but when the morning comes remember
I'll be with you.

We'll walk in the shadows,
by day we'll live in a dream.
We'll walk in the shadows.
One day you'll be with me
if only you believe . . .


Queensryche – Walk In the Shadows

Download track! Buy Rage For Order!
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Yes, it's time once again for NaNoWriMo, in which thousands of utterly insane individuals attempt to write at least 50,000 words of a novel in 30 days. It's difficult, but quite possible. I've done it twice.

I'm not so sure of myself this time. I am not certain whether I can even reach 50,000 words on this thing in a month, let alone finish it; projected length is about 85,000. My heart is in it, but I have a lot of other demands on my time at the moment, and two unfinished projects I really need to finish this weekend. I fear I am starting out woefully behind the curve.

At any rate, I'm registered over at the official forums. I don't plan on doing much over there except updating my word count every now and then, but I thought I'd drop the link. There will be excerpts there, eventually. (Don't worry, I'll let you know when they go up, and when they get changed out.)

Anyway, the book.

Damon finally gets his story told. Yes, that Damon. I know it's geeky as hell to recycle a character concept from an RPG, but I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't think it was a genuinely compelling story. And it really, really is.

So, I started work today on Walk In the Shadows. (Thank you for the title, honey.)

1,351 words.

Personal update later. For now, here. Have a theme song.

Our secret's safe for one more night,
but when the morning comes remember
I'll be with you.

We'll walk in the shadows,
by day we'll live in a dream.
We'll walk in the shadows.
One day you'll be with me
if only you believe . . .


Queensryche – Walk In the Shadows

Download track! Buy Rage For Order!

Score!

Nov. 22nd, 2005 09:07 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Zokutou word meter
50,024 / 50,000
(100.0%)


Second-time NaNoWriMo champion, right here. A week and some early, no less! The story's only half done, but I made the official NaNo word count!

*collapses*

Score!

Nov. 22nd, 2005 09:07 pm
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Zokutou word meter
50,024 / 50,000
(100.0%)


Second-time NaNoWriMo champion, right here. A week and some early, no less! The story's only half done, but I made the official NaNo word count!

*collapses*
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Word count as of this morning: 31,018.

That's sixty percent done. I'll make you look at the word meter later. Because I'm a sadist like that.

Aaand in other news, Friday was the monthly convocation of geeks and gluttony. I was bitching about the cons of not being able to read aloud, but I feel obligated at this point to remind everyone that there are pros as well; the biggest one is that sometimes, just sometimes, you get to hear some really first-rate stories. And everything read on Friday was a heck of a lot of fun. The kind of night that makes me glad I didn't bring anything.

And on Friday, [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie contributed to the downfall of Western Civilization by providing me with a tool for evil: our Christmas present. A region-free DVD player that can also make sense out of video clips and mp3s. My gratitude will have a high body count, I guarantee it.

I can now play all my internet porn clips on my TV, AHAHAHAHA!!!, and FINALLY watch my prized pirate copies of that Tarzan show with Travis Fimmel that got canceled after only 8 episodes. I have yet to determine if it was a good show or a bad show. I couldn't tell you if he can act. I'm too busy looking at him and wondering how the fuck someone so seraphically gorgeous can possibly be a member of the same species as, say, Nicholas Cage, who looks like his DNA has been combined with that of a katydid.

Anyway, this is all to [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie's advantage, as the longer I spend in front of the TV the faster I will be done with his birthday present. Which I hope he likes, because I think it's pretty damn cool, myself.

So, yes, I spent this weekend in an orgy of Brisco County, Jr. and Justice League episodes, with a heaping topper of Ioan Gruffudd. Yeeeah. Guess what came in the mail last week, prompting gusty shrieks of delight? The Horatio Hornblower super-duper-extreme-ultra-special edition boxed set, complete with *dies* interview footage where he's making no effort to suppress his Welsh accent.

This is the part where I fangirl relentlessly. )

I think I'm done fangirling now, though I could be wrong.

I keep promising BPAL reviews and I will put them up, I've just been re-testing a few scents to see what I think of them on a second run. It's amazing how complex perfumery is. Often I'll get a sniff of something and have no idea what it is I'm smelling, or how to describe it. I have to go rooting around, trying to ferret out individual notes. It's wild.

I will profess an undying (heh) love for Zombi, as well as major, major lust for Iago. I see big bottles of both of those in my future, unless I find another rose blend I like better, or something else leather-based that flips my skirt up. Morocco, Scherezade, and The Lion are also beautiful, in a spicy/amber sort of way.

Anyway, enough of my blather. I threatened you with it, so here it is. Behold my word meter.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
31,018 / 50,000
(62.0%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
Word count as of this morning: 31,018.

That's sixty percent done. I'll make you look at the word meter later. Because I'm a sadist like that.

Aaand in other news, Friday was the monthly convocation of geeks and gluttony. I was bitching about the cons of not being able to read aloud, but I feel obligated at this point to remind everyone that there are pros as well; the biggest one is that sometimes, just sometimes, you get to hear some really first-rate stories. And everything read on Friday was a heck of a lot of fun. The kind of night that makes me glad I didn't bring anything.

And on Friday, [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie contributed to the downfall of Western Civilization by providing me with a tool for evil: our Christmas present. A region-free DVD player that can also make sense out of video clips and mp3s. My gratitude will have a high body count, I guarantee it.

I can now play all my internet porn clips on my TV, AHAHAHAHA!!!, and FINALLY watch my prized pirate copies of that Tarzan show with Travis Fimmel that got canceled after only 8 episodes. I have yet to determine if it was a good show or a bad show. I couldn't tell you if he can act. I'm too busy looking at him and wondering how the fuck someone so seraphically gorgeous can possibly be a member of the same species as, say, Nicholas Cage, who looks like his DNA has been combined with that of a katydid.

Anyway, this is all to [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie's advantage, as the longer I spend in front of the TV the faster I will be done with his birthday present. Which I hope he likes, because I think it's pretty damn cool, myself.

So, yes, I spent this weekend in an orgy of Brisco County, Jr. and Justice League episodes, with a heaping topper of Ioan Gruffudd. Yeeeah. Guess what came in the mail last week, prompting gusty shrieks of delight? The Horatio Hornblower super-duper-extreme-ultra-special edition boxed set, complete with *dies* interview footage where he's making no effort to suppress his Welsh accent.

This is the part where I fangirl relentlessly. )

I think I'm done fangirling now, though I could be wrong.

I keep promising BPAL reviews and I will put them up, I've just been re-testing a few scents to see what I think of them on a second run. It's amazing how complex perfumery is. Often I'll get a sniff of something and have no idea what it is I'm smelling, or how to describe it. I have to go rooting around, trying to ferret out individual notes. It's wild.

I will profess an undying (heh) love for Zombi, as well as major, major lust for Iago. I see big bottles of both of those in my future, unless I find another rose blend I like better, or something else leather-based that flips my skirt up. Morocco, Scherezade, and The Lion are also beautiful, in a spicy/amber sort of way.

Anyway, enough of my blather. I threatened you with it, so here it is. Behold my word meter.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
31,018 / 50,000
(62.0%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Monkeys)
Yes, tomorrow is the monthly night of lies and snacking for the brave members of the OSFW.

You know, there is only one downside of having both A) an unquenchable lust to write really shitty porn and occasional quality erotica and B) a writers' group where we regularly gather to share excerpts of our work.

I can't read aloud. A full 98% of what I write is gratuitous porn, and the non-porny parts are still cheesy and overwrought as all get-out. There's the non-porn pulp adventure, but I always get halfway through reading a chapter and feel like everyone hates it. Besides. What's the point of reading 1/24 of something when you'll never be able to work through the whole thing? So I haven't actually, you know, read anything in . . . a year? Longer? I feel all frustrated, and there really isn't a solution for it except A) reading anyway or B) shutting the hell up.

There's always C) write something that doesn't involve gangbangs, swordfights, and pirates with +10 vorpal paddles; but on a scale of one to ten where one rates a "Ha ha!" and ten merits dying of a fit, the idea of actually restraining myself (as opposed to having someone do it for me) is stupid enough to merit an eleven. So I'm going with B.

I just thought I should point out one of the few really shitty things about being a pornographer. Like when someone asks what you do, and you answer them honestly, and they look at you like you're some kind of freak. Like you're about to test out your latest idea on them, personally. Because all erotica writers, don't you know, write only about A) things they've done and B) people they know. Sometimes C) things they've done to people they know. Imagination? Never enters into the equation. We're drooling sex maniacs, every one of us, and the only thing keeping us from pinning random people down and performing freaky sexperiments on them are leash laws. And sometimes, not even that.

I sort-of apologize to everyone for not posting more often the past two weeks. NaNo is really taking the skin off my pudding, if you know what I mean, and what's left is all formless and gooey and sort of evil-smelling. I'll be back to my normal bitchy, profane self once I've finished this horsefucker of a novel, and will hopefully have something intelligent to say besides "Plan? Zog no have plan!" I realize I've been horribly remiss with comments/email/dishes/grooming. I hope it takes the sting out to realize that, all life-drama bullshit aside, I've been having a really good time writing about my Mary Sue and my reluctant hero, and that's what really matters.

In brief life-drama bullshit update: family stuff was supposed to go down last week, with people coming in to see us and me going out to see other people. It got delayed until around Thanksgiving, which is a mixed blessing. I put off some things I wanted to do, thinking stuff was going to happen on a different, mythical schedule, which means I didn't get to do any of what I'd planned. On the other hand, I had the whole week free to do whatever else I wanted. And, gee, could I possibly vague that up for you any more?

Moving on, stay tuned for a whole swampload of BPAL reviews -- because this is my journal and I can inflict all kinds of weird shit on you without excuse, warning, or apology. I've been dabbing and sniffing for days now, and have skin-tested a baker's dozen of tantalizing scents. So far, we have two that have made me beg for mercy -- one in an unspeakably good way, and one in a very, very, very bad way.

And until then, you can just stare at this little meter. Staaare at it. Ooooo! Isn't it pretty? Every one of those fracking words was a word laboriously dragged out of my ass on barbed wire. ADMIRE IT. They are perfect pearls, inspired by God himself. This is intelligent fucking design at work, people. Everyone else's novels? Evolved from monkeys (see icon). Do they have talking foxes with better fashion sense than a highly-trained and coordinated team of gay Bohemian window-dressers? Hunky guard captains on blind dates from Hell? Mercenaries hung like mountain ponies? Perfectly-aimed cheese tarts? I don't think so.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
23,422 / 50,000
(46.8%)


And a very happy birthday to [livejournal.com profile] kittyblue. =^_^=

I wish I had, you know, lots and lots of money, and could come all the way over there to take you to lunch where we would hire attractive male strippers to let us lick powdered chocolate from their pectoral muscles, but, alas, you'll have to settle for a silly dance from afar.

*hugs*
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Monkeys)
Yes, tomorrow is the monthly night of lies and snacking for the brave members of the OSFW.

You know, there is only one downside of having both A) an unquenchable lust to write really shitty porn and occasional quality erotica and B) a writers' group where we regularly gather to share excerpts of our work.

I can't read aloud. A full 98% of what I write is gratuitous porn, and the non-porny parts are still cheesy and overwrought as all get-out. There's the non-porn pulp adventure, but I always get halfway through reading a chapter and feel like everyone hates it. Besides. What's the point of reading 1/24 of something when you'll never be able to work through the whole thing? So I haven't actually, you know, read anything in . . . a year? Longer? I feel all frustrated, and there really isn't a solution for it except A) reading anyway or B) shutting the hell up.

There's always C) write something that doesn't involve gangbangs, swordfights, and pirates with +10 vorpal paddles; but on a scale of one to ten where one rates a "Ha ha!" and ten merits dying of a fit, the idea of actually restraining myself (as opposed to having someone do it for me) is stupid enough to merit an eleven. So I'm going with B.

I just thought I should point out one of the few really shitty things about being a pornographer. Like when someone asks what you do, and you answer them honestly, and they look at you like you're some kind of freak. Like you're about to test out your latest idea on them, personally. Because all erotica writers, don't you know, write only about A) things they've done and B) people they know. Sometimes C) things they've done to people they know. Imagination? Never enters into the equation. We're drooling sex maniacs, every one of us, and the only thing keeping us from pinning random people down and performing freaky sexperiments on them are leash laws. And sometimes, not even that.

I sort-of apologize to everyone for not posting more often the past two weeks. NaNo is really taking the skin off my pudding, if you know what I mean, and what's left is all formless and gooey and sort of evil-smelling. I'll be back to my normal bitchy, profane self once I've finished this horsefucker of a novel, and will hopefully have something intelligent to say besides "Plan? Zog no have plan!" I realize I've been horribly remiss with comments/email/dishes/grooming. I hope it takes the sting out to realize that, all life-drama bullshit aside, I've been having a really good time writing about my Mary Sue and my reluctant hero, and that's what really matters.

In brief life-drama bullshit update: family stuff was supposed to go down last week, with people coming in to see us and me going out to see other people. It got delayed until around Thanksgiving, which is a mixed blessing. I put off some things I wanted to do, thinking stuff was going to happen on a different, mythical schedule, which means I didn't get to do any of what I'd planned. On the other hand, I had the whole week free to do whatever else I wanted. And, gee, could I possibly vague that up for you any more?

Moving on, stay tuned for a whole swampload of BPAL reviews -- because this is my journal and I can inflict all kinds of weird shit on you without excuse, warning, or apology. I've been dabbing and sniffing for days now, and have skin-tested a baker's dozen of tantalizing scents. So far, we have two that have made me beg for mercy -- one in an unspeakably good way, and one in a very, very, very bad way.

And until then, you can just stare at this little meter. Staaare at it. Ooooo! Isn't it pretty? Every one of those fracking words was a word laboriously dragged out of my ass on barbed wire. ADMIRE IT. They are perfect pearls, inspired by God himself. This is intelligent fucking design at work, people. Everyone else's novels? Evolved from monkeys (see icon). Do they have talking foxes with better fashion sense than a highly-trained and coordinated team of gay Bohemian window-dressers? Hunky guard captains on blind dates from Hell? Mercenaries hung like mountain ponies? Perfectly-aimed cheese tarts? I don't think so.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
23,422 / 50,000
(46.8%)


And a very happy birthday to [livejournal.com profile] kittyblue. =^_^=

I wish I had, you know, lots and lots of money, and could come all the way over there to take you to lunch where we would hire attractive male strippers to let us lick powdered chocolate from their pectoral muscles, but, alas, you'll have to settle for a silly dance from afar.

*hugs*
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Okay. I realize that porn is, essentially, written primarily for an audience of one: the writer. If the author of the smut ain't gettin' turned on, ain't nobody gettin' turned on.

But for the love of all that is holy, do my predilections have to be so fucking laughably obvious? I swore to myself this was going to be a love story: sweet, straightforward, and simple, with only enough bondage and coercion to allow Our Dashing Hero to rescue Our Heroine at the dramatically appropriate moment. 17,000 words in (which is really, really late to have the sex just starting, by the way) and I realize that though I have sworn not to include any pirates in a plotline-affecting capacity, I am suddenly inundated with something almost as good: mercenaries. Which are like bandits, which are like pirates without a boat.

I swore I would not repeat myself, yet who is my Mary-Sue the girl going to use to relieve herself of her virginity?

The mercenary captain.

Well, color me fucking shocked here, people.

Actually, color me disgusted. That doesn't clash as badly with "ravished red" and "just-spanked pink."

I've stopped surprising myself. And when I quit doing that, I quit enjoying it as much.
Don't get me wrong, I have no desire to change things on the run like this, and the plot is actually quite fun, I'm just frustrated with myself. I have yet to write porn without a hunky bad guy. This one is a little sterner, a little meaner, but he's still very dashing, you know, and would just look great in the outfit-plus-scars ensemble. The big swordfight at the end? I want to write that scene right now.

Good God, people. What the Hell is wrong with me? I would have sworn my villain problem wasn't this bad. Next time, I'm going to give up and write the most self-indulgent bondage-riddled pirate porn imaginable. Maybe then I can write something without pirates in it!

Ugh. If it was supposed to be good, it wouldn't be NaNo, would it?

Belay the starboard wenches and slosh me with grog! It appears we be a third of the way through!

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
17,315 / 50,000
(34.6%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Okay. I realize that porn is, essentially, written primarily for an audience of one: the writer. If the author of the smut ain't gettin' turned on, ain't nobody gettin' turned on.

But for the love of all that is holy, do my predilections have to be so fucking laughably obvious? I swore to myself this was going to be a love story: sweet, straightforward, and simple, with only enough bondage and coercion to allow Our Dashing Hero to rescue Our Heroine at the dramatically appropriate moment. 17,000 words in (which is really, really late to have the sex just starting, by the way) and I realize that though I have sworn not to include any pirates in a plotline-affecting capacity, I am suddenly inundated with something almost as good: mercenaries. Which are like bandits, which are like pirates without a boat.

I swore I would not repeat myself, yet who is my Mary-Sue the girl going to use to relieve herself of her virginity?

The mercenary captain.

Well, color me fucking shocked here, people.

Actually, color me disgusted. That doesn't clash as badly with "ravished red" and "just-spanked pink."

I've stopped surprising myself. And when I quit doing that, I quit enjoying it as much.
Don't get me wrong, I have no desire to change things on the run like this, and the plot is actually quite fun, I'm just frustrated with myself. I have yet to write porn without a hunky bad guy. This one is a little sterner, a little meaner, but he's still very dashing, you know, and would just look great in the outfit-plus-scars ensemble. The big swordfight at the end? I want to write that scene right now.

Good God, people. What the Hell is wrong with me? I would have sworn my villain problem wasn't this bad. Next time, I'm going to give up and write the most self-indulgent bondage-riddled pirate porn imaginable. Maybe then I can write something without pirates in it!

Ugh. If it was supposed to be good, it wouldn't be NaNo, would it?

Belay the starboard wenches and slosh me with grog! It appears we be a third of the way through!

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
17,315 / 50,000
(34.6%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Monkeys)
There is very little more boring than listening to someone talk about their writing process. I will let it suffice to say that I am still chugging along, several days ahead of where I need to be, despite regular cat interventions and rancid dog farts.

The saddest thing about this novel is that I will not be able to read excerpts of it at the writers' meetings I attend. It's porn, and it's bad porn at that. I don't think I've missed a fantasy cliché, yet. Right down to the talking animal sidekick. It's like some horrible animated movie where the beleaguered heroine flees her home, has lots of zany adventures, and breaks into sex along the way like Disney Princesses break into song. If you think for even a minute I'm going to let the group see it, you're smoking something finer than what I got.

So for lack of something more articulate and intelligent (I seem to be spending all my mental money in one place these days) I ask some questions and leave the floor to you:

For those of you trying the novel-in-a-month thing, what is your primary motivation to try something so stupid and crazy? How do you feel the novel-in-a-month theory compares to other highly compressed things, like bonsai kittens and squeez cheez? Does it make you feel good? Bad? Scared? Why are we doing this, anyway? What is your favorite plot point or irrelevant yet fun detail so far? Do you think you'll make it?

Talk among yourselves.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
10,053 / 50,000
(20.1%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Monkeys)
There is very little more boring than listening to someone talk about their writing process. I will let it suffice to say that I am still chugging along, several days ahead of where I need to be, despite regular cat interventions and rancid dog farts.

The saddest thing about this novel is that I will not be able to read excerpts of it at the writers' meetings I attend. It's porn, and it's bad porn at that. I don't think I've missed a fantasy cliché, yet. Right down to the talking animal sidekick. It's like some horrible animated movie where the beleaguered heroine flees her home, has lots of zany adventures, and breaks into sex along the way like Disney Princesses break into song. If you think for even a minute I'm going to let the group see it, you're smoking something finer than what I got.

So for lack of something more articulate and intelligent (I seem to be spending all my mental money in one place these days) I ask some questions and leave the floor to you:

For those of you trying the novel-in-a-month thing, what is your primary motivation to try something so stupid and crazy? How do you feel the novel-in-a-month theory compares to other highly compressed things, like bonsai kittens and squeez cheez? Does it make you feel good? Bad? Scared? Why are we doing this, anyway? What is your favorite plot point or irrelevant yet fun detail so far? Do you think you'll make it?

Talk among yourselves.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
10,053 / 50,000
(20.1%)
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Status of the current NaNoWriMo novel-in-progress:

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
3,236 / 50,000
(6.5%)


I started at two in the morning, and now have 3,000+ words of not-quite-porn-yet.

Not bad for a night's work! I wish I had more to say about it, but it's six o'fucking-clock and I'm so ready for bed I will kill any living thing that comes between it and me, and walk right over its bleeding corpse to get there.

The signing was hellaciously fun. A detailed post and pictures will be coming hopefully tomorrow. Until then, go and look at the pictures up on [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie's journal for one of the most hilarious pictures of me ever taken.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Red)
Status of the current NaNoWriMo novel-in-progress:

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
3,236 / 50,000
(6.5%)


I started at two in the morning, and now have 3,000+ words of not-quite-porn-yet.

Not bad for a night's work! I wish I had more to say about it, but it's six o'fucking-clock and I'm so ready for bed I will kill any living thing that comes between it and me, and walk right over its bleeding corpse to get there.

The signing was hellaciously fun. A detailed post and pictures will be coming hopefully tomorrow. Until then, go and look at the pictures up on [livejournal.com profile] spacezombie's journal for one of the most hilarious pictures of me ever taken.
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
The fun thing about pulpy sci-fantasy is that implied questionmark. Nothing is ever really over, the villain is never really dead, the earth never really saved. After all, it's a weekly serial, and there's no draw in Happily Ever After.

New bad guys always wait over the horizon, humanity is threatened yet again, and the intrepid hero is, time and again, thrown into unlikely situations with incredibly beautiful women who are eager to make out with him.

That reflects how I feel right now, at the official end of National Novel Writing Month. I have churned out my 50k-plus words, but I still have about 14k left to go, I think. The story marches on. It isn't over yet. And once I finish this book, there's always the next, and the one after that.

So it's never "The End." Only "Until Next Week."

And I like that.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
56,894 / 50,000
(113.7%)


link
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
The fun thing about pulpy sci-fantasy is that implied questionmark. Nothing is ever really over, the villain is never really dead, the earth never really saved. After all, it's a weekly serial, and there's no draw in Happily Ever After.

New bad guys always wait over the horizon, humanity is threatened yet again, and the intrepid hero is, time and again, thrown into unlikely situations with incredibly beautiful women who are eager to make out with him.

That reflects how I feel right now, at the official end of National Novel Writing Month. I have churned out my 50k-plus words, but I still have about 14k left to go, I think. The story marches on. It isn't over yet. And once I finish this book, there's always the next, and the one after that.

So it's never "The End." Only "Until Next Week."

And I like that.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
56,894 / 50,000
(113.7%)


link
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Bondage)
The lizards advanced from the darkness as a pair, and Jackson saw the horrible truth: it was not a pair of creatures, but a single beast, two heads united on a huge reptilian body.

The word it is, at the moment, The Word. Number fifty-thousand. Editing will doubtless eventually shift this to something more interesting.

Now I'm left with a kind of silly feeling . . . I've crossed the finish line, but I can't say "done!" and throw up my hands. Not when the last sentence I wrote goes like this:

Jorvash the Terrible's voice echoed down from his vantage above. "How do you like my pets? The heads have distinct personalities, you know. And I shall enjoy watching them fight over the scraps of your innards."

Could you leave your intrepid heroes at the mercy of a giant, two-headed Kimberly rock monitor?

I thought not.

I'm very close to being done, though. If I can keep up at around 1,600 words a day, with two days off a week, I should finish sometime in the middle of next month. Which is impressive progress, really. Better than anything I've ever managed before.

I'm surprised. With all the things going wrong in my life, with the year's circle turned where it is, I shouldn't be able to work at all. And yet . . . perhaps that is the magic of the season.

It's always a strange time, the weeks between October and sun's birth at December's end. The year is dying, and yet the seeds of the new are already planted. And this month of steady writing has felt very much like banking the creative fire against the cold to come.

It's important work, make no mistake, both for me individually, and for everyone who does it, and for society as a whole. There was a time when our species lived on not much more than stories from dark to dark all through the sleeping season. We haven't come that far, really. We still need storytellers.

So, a toast to everyone who's been writing, for NaNo or otherwise, whether you're behind or not. Every word counts. And a toast as well to every muse, be she contrary or well-fed, reclusive or frighteningly forward. Without that mysterious dance of inspiration whirling in the human mind, the world would be a sad place, indeed; both for those who write, and for those who listen, and warm themselves beside our fire for a little while, providing our much-needed audience.

But that's all the philosophy I can stand. I'll be back to check in on you later. Right now, I have to save a couple of hot guys from a giant, two-headed lizard.

Zokutou word meter
50,163 / 50,000
(100.3%)


link
naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (NaNo Bondage)
The lizards advanced from the darkness as a pair, and Jackson saw the horrible truth: it was not a pair of creatures, but a single beast, two heads united on a huge reptilian body.

The word it is, at the moment, The Word. Number fifty-thousand. Editing will doubtless eventually shift this to something more interesting.

Now I'm left with a kind of silly feeling . . . I've crossed the finish line, but I can't say "done!" and throw up my hands. Not when the last sentence I wrote goes like this:

Jorvash the Terrible's voice echoed down from his vantage above. "How do you like my pets? The heads have distinct personalities, you know. And I shall enjoy watching them fight over the scraps of your innards."

Could you leave your intrepid heroes at the mercy of a giant, two-headed Kimberly rock monitor?

I thought not.

I'm very close to being done, though. If I can keep up at around 1,600 words a day, with two days off a week, I should finish sometime in the middle of next month. Which is impressive progress, really. Better than anything I've ever managed before.

I'm surprised. With all the things going wrong in my life, with the year's circle turned where it is, I shouldn't be able to work at all. And yet . . . perhaps that is the magic of the season.

It's always a strange time, the weeks between October and sun's birth at December's end. The year is dying, and yet the seeds of the new are already planted. And this month of steady writing has felt very much like banking the creative fire against the cold to come.

It's important work, make no mistake, both for me individually, and for everyone who does it, and for society as a whole. There was a time when our species lived on not much more than stories from dark to dark all through the sleeping season. We haven't come that far, really. We still need storytellers.

So, a toast to everyone who's been writing, for NaNo or otherwise, whether you're behind or not. Every word counts. And a toast as well to every muse, be she contrary or well-fed, reclusive or frighteningly forward. Without that mysterious dance of inspiration whirling in the human mind, the world would be a sad place, indeed; both for those who write, and for those who listen, and warm themselves beside our fire for a little while, providing our much-needed audience.

But that's all the philosophy I can stand. I'll be back to check in on you later. Right now, I have to save a couple of hot guys from a giant, two-headed lizard.

Zokutou word meter
50,163 / 50,000
(100.3%)


link

Profile

naamah_darling: The right-side canines of a wolf's skull; the upper canine is made of gold. (Default)
naamah_darling

March 2017

S M T W T F S
   1234
5 678 910 11
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Apr. 25th, 2017 02:32 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios